


Realization of a Dream

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: Herald of Change [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Templars (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Young Cullen Rutherford finally achieves his childhood dream of joining the Templar Order. It should be a joyous occasion.But, somehow, it isn't.
Series: Herald of Change [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636348
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Realization of a Dream

_Honnleath, Ferelden; 9:24 Dragon_

“ _Cullen_!”

A teenage girl ran as fast as her legs could carry her across the fields, the evening sun shining brilliantly in her long, golden hair, which trailed behind her in curly ribbons that bounced with every stride. Her breath came in and out in rapid pants as much from excitement as exertion, her linen skirt billowing wildly as she flew over the ground with reckless speed.

“ _Cullen_!”

Another mass of golden curls rose above the waist-high grass as a younger boy across the field stood up abruptly in answer to her calls. He turned around and squinted, raising one hand to shield his gaze from the intense sunlight as his other gripped a hammer, with which he had been repairing loose boards in the field’s old wooden fence.

“What is it, Mia?” he called back, though he had a feeling she couldn’t answer in full until she reached him.

He watched her as she sprinted towards him. Two years his senior, his sister Mia was tall and gangly, already having lost most of her child-like facial features in favor of an increasingly-bold bone structure. Stronger than most of the girls her age, in both body and wit, Mia was very nearly intimidating, even to her brothers; that, coupled with her lack of typical beauty, leant her a tomboyish air despite the length of her meticulously-cared-for hair.

At last, she reached him, her feet pounding the dirt as she slowed herself and then halted, leaning on the fence for support while she caught her breath. She couldn’t help but grin as she glanced sideways at her brother, a glint of mischief in her doe-brown eyes.

“Knight… Captain… talking with mother… and father…” she huffed out. “Had to tell you.”

Cullen very nearly dropped the hammer he was holding onto his foot. His amber eyes went wide as his grip slackened, and then he caught himself, hooking the tool back onto his belt before replying incredulously, “What? Are you…?”

She chuckled. “Yes, silly… I’m serious. I wouldn’t tease you, brother, not about this. I know how much you want to be a Templar. It’s why I had to come and tell you now instead of waiting until after supper.”

“Is he… is he talking about _me_?”

Mia shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t stay to find out. But I think your Templar friends have been talking to him. Why else would he speak with mother and father?”

Cullen leaned backwards against the fence, looking up at the sky for a long time. “Do you think they’ll let me go? If he’s talking about recruiting me?”

Mia leaned back on the fence beside him and gave him a serious look. “They have to. They can’t just let this pass. It’s all but landed right in your lap… to keep you from this…” she shook her head again, her expression a stern one. “I won’t ever forgive them if they don’t let you go.”

Cullen was silent for a while, the only sound the soft breeze rustling through the tall grass. Mia had always been his biggest supporter, ever since he had declared his intention to become a Templar when he was eight – five years ago. She had made encouraging him a priority, insisting that the rest of his family humor his wishes, though why he wasn’t exactly certain. Mia was fiercely protective of him, even as she teased him mercilessly and trounced him at chess nine times out of ten. She seemed unable to stand the thoughts of his dreams being dashed, and she worked tirelessly to try and make them come true.

He remembered that she had been ecstatic when Honnleath’s Templars actually humored his relentless pestering and began to teach him the art of swordplay. He had caught on surprisingly quickly, and it soon began apparent that he needed more intensive training than just a spar or two during the Templars’ downtime; there was only so much that they could teach him – particularly without Chantry approval…

“ _Cullen! Mia!”_

Their parents’ unified calls suddenly rang out over the field, breaking him out of his reverie, and the two siblings immediately dashed forth in response.

“Coming!” they answered together, quickly picking up speed as they ran.

Before long, their modest home came into view – a charming farmhouse with a thatched roof and lazy smoke rising from the chimney. No doubt supper was ready to be served, judging from the mouth-watering aroma that pulled at the siblings as they dashed up to the front step and ducked inside.

“There they are!” their mother exclaimed, deftly dodging seven-year-old Rosalie as she skirted around the dinner table with her hot pot in hand. “Mia, could you get the bread from the oven, dear?”

“Yes, mother.”

Cullen’s father – a mountain of a man with a pleasant smile set in his weathered countenance – clapped his heavy hand on his second child’s shoulders, “Did you get the fence fixed, lad?”

“Yes, ser,” Cullen nodded, “No loose boards left.”

“Good, good,” his father took his seat at the table with a groan and a wince as his joints protested the movement, “Maybe it’ll last another year before we have to start rebuilding it.”

“I hope so,” his mother replied, ladling hot stew into the bowl that sat before Branson. The eleven-year-old wrinkled his nose at the _absurd_ amount of vegetables swimming in the broth, and their mother elbowed him in the shoulder. “Don’t give me that, Branson. You eat up.”

“Yes, mother.”

Mia arrived with the freshly-baked bread just as their mother finished serving everyone’s bowl; once she filled her own, she returned the pot to the fire and sat down with a sigh, a half smile on her face. Cullen tried not to look expectantly at his parents, instead focusing on the steaming food in front of him. He felt it best not to say anything at all to them, in case they were displeased with the Knight-Captain’s visit. If whatever the visit was about was important, they would tell him…

The entire family devoured their meal in contented silence, famished and exhausted after a hard day’s work. There was no need for conversation to feel a familial bond between them; it was as if an invisible thread bound them all together. Despite their occasional personality clashes, the Rutherford family was tightly-knit, and outside of the occasional scant harvests, they had little real problems.

They cleaned up their meal in equal silence, and their mother shooed them off to bed early. It was then that Cullen knew something was up – they always shooed off the children when they needed to talk privately. The siblings slept upstairs, across from their parents’ room, their beds side-by-side against the back wall of the house. Once they made sure Rosalie and Branson were tucked in, Cullen and Mia exchanged looks and then glanced at the door.

“You think they’re going to talk about…?” Cullen asked, trailing off his inquiry as he suddenly heard his parents’ voices grow louder.

“I think so,” Mia whispered with a nod, jerking her head towards the door.

The two of them pressed into the door, their ears against the wood, and their parents’ conversation suddenly became surprisingly audible…

“…can’t believe it. They actually wrote him?”

“Something must have told them he’d be worth the risk. They must see something in him worthwhile or they never would have bothered.”

“Either that or they’re desperate for him to leave them alone.”

Cullen heard his father chuckle softly. “I don’t think that’s it, dear. Cullen’s got talent with a blade; that much is obvious. I watched him a few times when he was practicing with Ser Anselm. And I could tell the old Templar was awfully pleased. They’re proud of him, as am I.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to suggest I’m not… it’s just…”

“I know. You’re afraid for him.”

His mother sighed. “The path of a Templar isn’t exactly the safest. To imagine my son facing violent maleficar and… Maker, what about demons?”

“You know Cullen. He’s dreamed of battling evil since he learned to read. Perhaps the Maker has called him to this, and if so, who are we to deny him?”

“Yes, but your shoulders and knees are getting worse every year, we’d be sending him off with only Branson to help you with-”

“No. I’m not going to be an obstacle to my boy. I’ll deal with whatever the Maker throws at me, just as I know Cullen will endure whatever tests the Maker has in store for him.”

“So you’re going to let him go, just like that?”

There was a heavy sigh. “No, not just like that. But I can’t in good conscience keep him from this when it is so deeply ingrained in every fiber of his being. Have you seen him in sparring matches? Just the prospect – the _chance_ – of his dreams coming true brings him joy I can’t describe… joy that’s etched on his face. Every lesson gives him hope. I can’t dash those hopes, crush those dreams, hold back my son from a life of happiness because _I’m_ afraid for his future. Can you?”

A long silence followed.

“No.”

It was at that moment that Cullen and Mia backed away from the door, sharing glances again. The latter grinned widely at her brother, whose face bore an expression of sheer wonder.

“I’m… I’m going to be a Templar.”

His words were a mixture of both surprise and confirmation.

Mia hugged him tightly. “Yes. Yes you are.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Cullen was so excited that night that he barely slept. For hours he lay, staring into the shadows of the ceiling above, imagining what would happen on the morrow. He knew he couldn’t show his enthusiasm, however, as that would indicate to his parents that he had overheard their conversation. Besides, they still hadn’t officially said yes, yet. He sobered himself with that thought; no matter what he had heard, they could change their minds. It was this thought that he kept in the back of his head even as he rose at dawn, pulling on his clothes and heading downstairs to begin his morning chores.

It was not long after he and his siblings had awoken, beginning to help their mother around the house, when a rapid knock came upon their door. Everyone immediately halted in their tracks, the children glancing to their parents questioningly.

It was then their father gestured to Cullen. “Open the door, son.”

Immediately, he obeyed, pulling the door wide. There, framed by the doorway, stood the Knight-Captain himself, winged helm tucked under one arm, looking down at the boy who answered his knock. Illuminated by the morning sun, the Templar’s armor nearly blinded Cullen as he looked back, fighting to keep his jaw from dropping open.

“You must be Cullen,” the Knight-Captain greeted him with a wide smile. “I have heard much about you, young man.”

The boy swallowed. “You have, ser?”

The Captain chuckled lightly. “Yes, I have. Rumor has it you want to join the Templar Order, is that correct?”

Cullen took a breath to calm his nerves, then answered with lifted chin, “Yes, ser.”

The Knight-Captain seemed amused by the boy’s confident reply. “Tell me… why, exactly, do you wish to join our ranks?”

Cullen had been waiting for this question his whole life.

“Because good people are needed to keep evil at bay. I want to do good things. I want to help people. The Templars do that… and I want to be a part of it. I want to protect others and do honor to my family and to the Maker.”

A wry smile tugged at the Knight-Captain’s lips, and he placed a gauntleted hand atop Cullen’s head. “Good lad.”

After a moment, he drew back and added, “If you truly wish to join the Templar Order, to devote your life to the service of the Maker and the Maker’s children, then you may. I have already spoken with your parents, and they have given their consent. There are a few things which I must do before I depart Honnleath, so you have some time to yourself to say your goodbyes. Meet me at the Chantry before the sun peaks in the sky, and I will take you with me to begin your training. Bring nothing with you but the clothes you wear now, as from this moment forth, your faith shall provide for you. You understand, yes?”

Cullen nodded solemnly.

“Good.” The Knight-Captain then looked past the boy to his parents, giving a slight bow. “Thank you, and Maker be with you all.”

With that, the Templar turned and slowly walked towards the main village, leaving Cullen to stare after him for a moment. At last, though, he closed the door and looked back to see his siblings gaping at him, slack-jawed. He glimpsed tears shining in his mother’s eyes, though she turned around quickly in hopes of hiding them. His father, too, seemed to busy himself with the fireplace, not meeting his gaze.

Glancing to his older sister, he noticed that Mia’s countenance was etched with an expression of triumph, and a grin slowly spread across her face. “Cullen’s gonna be a Templar now!”

Their father chuckled, though the sound did not seem mirthful in the least. “That he is, Mia.”

“But he’s going away,” Rosalie said dejectedly, looking utterly heartbroken as she glanced first to Cullen and then back to their parents, her hazel eyes shining with sadness.

“Maybe he’ll come back soon,” Branson piped up hopefully. “He could stay at the Chantry, like Ser Anselm.”

“But he’s _old_. Does that mean Cullen has to be old when he comes back, too?”

To his great surprise, a cloud of oppressive melancholy had suddenly fallen over the Rutherford household… something that Cullen had never expected would happen. His parents quietly continued to go about their business, saying nothing while his younger siblings fussed and fretted over his departure. Pressed with a sudden need to get away from this terribly mournful atmosphere, he turned on his heel and headed out the door, subconsciously going straight to the one place that seemed to give him peace whenever he was troubled.

So heavy were his thoughts that he didn’t even realize where his feet were taking him until his soft shoes hit wood, and he found himself standing on the short pier of a lake in the middle of a clearing, the green forest all about him. It was not far from his home, just a short jaunt into the adjacent woods. He frequently came here when the antics of his siblings became too much to bear and he needed a few moments to himself.

The crisp morning air was filled with the soft sound of distant birdsong, and the water before him was still and smooth as glass, reflecting the thick canopy around him, through which filtered thin rays of golden light. Mist clung to the waters, floating lazily above the mirroring surface like the eerie breath of some mythic beast. A strange feeling settled over him, as though he was standing on the brink of some precipice, about to tumble over the edge…

Suddenly, he heard footsteps crunching the leaves behind him, and he turned to see Branson headed towards him, caution in his step. He hadn’t expected anyone to pursue him, and so he was more than a little surprised to see his brother emerge from the copse.

“Hey,” the younger boy finally said, a half-smile flickering across his face.

“Hey,” Cullen replied back, unsure of what else to say in response.

Branson shoved his hands deep into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he meandered to his older brother’s side. Cullen watched him, knowing that if he had followed him all the way out here, then something must have been on his mind. The younger lad was uncharacteristically solemn, the bangs of his messy, tawny brown hair falling into his face as his jade eyes fixed on the placid waters of the lake. For the longest time, he merely stood there, seemingly gathering his thoughts, and Cullen didn’t press him.

“So you’re really leaving?” Branson asked at length, not meeting his elder brother’s gaze.

Cullen was silent for several moments before replying, “Yes.”

Branson then looked up at him and made an odd face as one hand fished around in a pocket before withdrawing a shining silver coin. He glanced at it, then proffered it to Cullen. “Here. Take it.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed as he hesitantly took the coin, turning it over in his hands. “Why? What for?”

Branson gave him a broad grin. “It’s lucky! You might need it.”

Cullen regarded the coin for a long moment, a small smile pulling at his lips before he slipped it into his own pocket for safekeeping. Then, putting an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders, he answered quietly, “Thanks, Branson.”

This day, and perhaps this very moment, would alter the course of his life forever. He could not foresee the magnitude of the changes that were coming, changes for which he would not be prepared; they would alter the very face of Thedas itself, and he, with his idealistic hopes of making life better for the innocent, would be caught in the middle for much of his adult life.

Standing there with his brother on the pier, amidst the peace of the forest, hours away from fulfilling his childhood dream, Cullen did not know that this was the last time he would witness his family whole and well.


End file.
